Under Lock And Key
by BlankCanvas23
Summary: Matt's thinking of a word... any word... for a password. Which is harder than he could have possibly comprehended. Can Mello give him a clue? M&M Rated M for lang and implied sexy things.


Under Lock And Key

* * *

_A/N – _

_Another idea that showed up on my literary doorstep, all high-pitched demands and already finished before I even put my pencil to paper. Or fingers to little black keys connected to a word processing program. _

_*Sighs*_

'_Postal Service' shall forever be canon to me, thanks to _**Tierfal**_**.** Go read now. XD_

_Spoilers for names, I guess. Also rated for language and slight smexxxy ness. Better safe than sorry._

_I don't own Get Smart, but I do have all the seasons of the TV show and the movie. You can tell I don't get out much, hey?_

_Also, I don't own DeathNote, but I make the characters do whatever I want. Dance puppets dance!_

* * *

The cursor blinked. So did Matt.

Mail Jeevas was a nineteen year old with an IQ of 190, a hacker who could get inside the Pentagon's security system within 15 minutes, and was number three at Whammy's House.

It went without saying that he had the mental capacity to be able to think of a password.

_Damn this piece of shit._

He just lacked the creativity, apparently.

The prompt of _System Encoding Requires Password, Please Enter Below _flashed at him in the darkness. Matt glared at it.

_Who would have thought this could be so hard?_

He just needed to set this one last precaution and then he would be set to work until his eyes bled. In a desperate attempt to get out of surveillance, he'd hastily promised to 'man the base' in the apartment. The stuffy, messy, shitty apartment with no hot water and light's that flickered cause Mello was too much of a tight-arse to pay the bills on time.

He was pretty stupid for a guy who was supposed to be a genius.

Matt growled at the prompt, and tapped his fingers against the plastic frame of the device.

Anyone who knew Matt would have scoffed at the idea that just one attempt at overriding the system would open the entire fortress of hacking delights and private information.

Matt was smarter than _that_. The entire thing was tripped; set up so it looked easy to hack. He had spent the last three hours creating firewalls and other security settings on his laptop, and the password was the final addition. The password had to be entered within five point three seconds or else all the firewalls and all the security settings would go into lockdown, blocking the user and deleting all the information on the hard-drive with no hope of recovery.

Matt had gotten the idea from the old episodes of _'Get Smart'_ he used to watch at Whammy's. As soon as he had witnessed the opening credits, with Maxwell Smart walking down that iconic hallway, perfectly synchronised doors slamming shut behind him, he had marvelled at the brilliance of the technician who had thought that up.

Mello used to always scoff at him for watching that show, and would try to ruin it by solving the mystery before Max did (it was always the Russians anyway; so it wasn't that hard to deduce), but Matt really didn't care about the _who-dun-it_ element. He loved the gadgets; the shoe phone, the cone of silence, all the disguises...

It was inevitable, it seemed, that he would become a professional hacker instead of a detective.

_Ah well._

Let the detectives have their nervous habits; he was quite content with his laptop.

If he could think of a fucking password, that was.

Matt groaned, and ran his fingers through his hair, accidently catching his goggles and knocking them to the floor.

_Argh._

After nearly dislocating his arm trying to reach them without leaving his chair, Matt turned to the keys, triumphant.

GOGGLES

His fingers hovered over the enter button.

Too obvious, maybe?

Matt nodded absently and deleted it. Square one again.

WHAMMYS

No way. Matt didn't want cops hanging around that wonderful, stupid place. Besides, he didn't think the whole 'groom 2 year olds to be super detectives' thing was legal.

HALO

Too short.

SUPER-SMASH-MARIO-BROTHERS

Too long.

STRIPES

How old _was_ he, anyway? _Three?_

SHIT

He didn't seem to be getting any better at this.

Matt crossed his arms so he wouldn't throw the offending laptop across the room.

His password had to be something unique, something easy to remember, with meaning...

A name?

Matt bit his lip.

_Miheal? _

No. He couldn't use Miheal. That would be dangerous, as well as stupid. Given the predicament they were currently in, using their real names in any context was out of the question.

A nickname, maybe?

Matt sighed, leaning back into the chair enough to let his head hang upside down. Probably wasn't good for his back, but whatever.

The door slammed as Mello waltzed into the apartment, spinning his gun idly on one long finger. The action always reminded Matt of the gun-toting cowboys of the American Midwest, striding into saloons and tipping their hats at pretty dames before riding off into the sunset upon a mighty stallion.

"What the hell are you grinning about Matt?"

"Nothing."

Mello huffed and started a search for the elusive packets of Ramen noodles. Those things ran out so quickly it was ridiculous. Matt didn't eat that much and Mello basically lived off his chocolate, so there was no rational explanation. Matt watched him open and close random cupboards, not paying attention to their contents.

He couldn't ask Mello for help. It was just... an ego thing. There were limits in their relationship. He wouldn't stand for Mello touching his laptop anymore than the blonde would allow Matt to take one of his horded chocolate bars out of the top cabinet above the sink.

... Or even touching that damn cabinet. Mello guarded it with his life.

Said blonde noticed Matt's stare and wandered over. Thanks to the positioning of Matt's head, he couldn't help but notice that Mello's scowl looked more like a smile upside down.

"What're you doing?"

"Working. Encryptions."

"'Bout time you did some work around here."

"Yeah. The pay check for being a smartass is terrible. I've got no choice."

Mello leaned forward over Matt's upturned head, prying the redhead's hands off the keyboard, completely contradicting his drawling argument. But before Matt could protest, Mello ran his fingers slowly and deliberately up Matt's arms and onto his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles. Matt lifted his head slightly and took the golden opportunity to trail little upside down kisses along Mello's exposed chest and neck as he pulled back.

The limits were only emotional though. Physically, there were no barriers. And that was the way Matt liked it.

Eventually their mouths joined, tongues sliding smoothly.

"You coming?" Mello murmured against Matt's mouth, nipping at his bottom lip.

The sultry subtext of _"to bed"_ was apparent. Matt broke away, straightened himself and gave Mello a somewhat embarrassed grin.

"I'll just be a minute. I'm almost done."

Mello shrugged and headed towards the bedroom, hips slinging inside his pants in a way that was almost sinful.

Damnit. He needed to think of something...

Through the thin walls, Matt could hear the agonisingly slow descent of a zipper.

... Something _other_ than that...

Matt was torn. Almost physically, it seemed. His fingertips ghosted absently over the keys, and he kept turning his head to the closed bedroom door.

_Ahhh... _

Mail Jeevas, resolve decided for him, hurriedly typed in a dozen or so letters, slammed the lid, and vaulted over the couch, pulling his shirt off over his head.

He would probably hate himself for it in the morning, but for now, stupid nicknames be dammed.

POSTAL-SERVICE would have to do.

* * *

_A/N - _

_... _

_Didya get it?_

_XP_

_Reviews of a gratuitous nature would be loved as much as the word 'gratuitous'._


End file.
